


Legend of Lillith, Daedric Destiny

by JetLikeTheJewel



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Dragonborn (Elder Scrolls), F/M, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-04-02
Updated: 2015-06-07
Packaged: 2018-03-20 20:46:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,090
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3664383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JetLikeTheJewel/pseuds/JetLikeTheJewel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I was born human. I was Lillith Ravenblade, assassin of the Dark Brotherhood and their Leader.</p><p>When I was betrayed, I died.</p><p>I was reborn.</p><p>I am Ravenna Gold, Daedric Prince of change, Reincarnation, and Morality.</p><p>I am Mother of Song, Master of Mischief and Bringer of Change.</p><p>The Daedra know who I am. They are watching me. There's no telling what they want from me. </p><p>I have seen the terrible power of Boethiah. </p><p>I've spoken to the mad god. ...</p><p>And I was a prisoner under the will of the Sithis.</p><p>What they don't know is that Jyggalag is coming.</p><p>I must gain their trust and form an alliance to take Jyggalag down...one final time.</p><p>I must also regain the trust of Ulfric Stormcloak. There will be many trials, and many things I must face. </p><p>I have little time, and little resources.</p><p>Will I be the savior of Nirn, or the blame of its demise?</p><p>Whatever the result, I am who I always have been.</p><p>I am...the Raven.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Devil in disguise...demeaning, forboding and full of lies...

 

 

_Ravenna Gold pic link down here!_

_[http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.furrtrax.com/furrtrax/avatars/Ravengirl&imgrefurl=http://www.furrtrax.com/indexsub.php?module%3Dprofile%26user%3D11681&h=409&w=728&tbnid=c4_iHh3ZikgHAM:&zoom=1&docid=tyVAwTCmfp643M&ei=maU5VczvLaa1sAS1k4DgBA&tbm=isch&ved=0CDcQMygOMA4](http://www.google.com/imgres?imgurl=http://www.furrtrax.com/furrtrax/avatars/Ravengirl&imgrefurl=http://www.furrtrax.com/indexsub.php?module%3Dprofile%26user%3D11681&h=409&w=728&tbnid=c4_iHh3ZikgHAM:&zoom=1&docid=tyVAwTCmfp643M&ei=maU5VczvLaa1sAS1k4DgBA&tbm=isch&ved=0CDcQMygOMA4) _

 

 

_2 years ago…_

 

  _Jhono Stormcrow’s P.O.V._

 

 

     The people looked on as the High King and his most trusted general’s gathered in the town square. All watched as General Tullius and his general’s bodies were hoisted 30 feet in the air; they witnessed the bodies dangle beneath the banner of the Bear, which swayed steadily in the cool morning air of autumn. Galmar Stonefist, wearing animal skin bloodied from battle beamed upon his Stormcloaks in glee as he stepped up to the Podium. “Behold...the prize for high treason!”

The soldiers boomed in cheer, the High King Ulfric then stepped on the Podium. With a single gesture of his hand, the crowd fell silent and bowed their heads in respect.

“Everyone...on behalf of all of you who have held true to our cause and fought as brothers and sisters of Skyrim...thank you!”

The crowd boomed in cheer, the screaming giving me a pounding headache. Falling silent once again, Ulfric spoke, his voice stoic and stern,

“None of this would have been possible without all of you. Every man, woman, and young soul has bled for our cause. Bled for our traditions...but most of all...our freedom.”

Ulfric closed his eyes, gripping the hilt of his sword with reassurance. “This war...is far from over. We have prevailed over the Empire. But the Thalmor are not so forgiving…

But know this...it has not been for nothing. We will fight, and we won’t stop until all of Skyrim is purged of the filth and the ideals that were meant to make us bow down! This is Nord land, and we do not answer to those who dictate the fates of men! Today, Solitude! Tomorrow, all of Skyrim!”

The crowd cheered once more, hugging each other and crying in the arms of their comrades.

“Before we end here, there is one thing that must be known. Many thanks to my highest general...thane of the Nine holds, Arch Mage of the Winterhold College, and slayer of Alduin...Jhono Stormcrow.” The crowd looked at me, cheering loudly as I stepped towards the podium.

“Ask what you will of me, Dragonborn. Whatever you desire, it is yours. You are my most trusted friend and ally, and I would like to thank you for your courage, your help, and your thu’um…”

“Anything?” I asked to be sure I had heard him. Ulfric gave a small bow of his head, and I stood before the podium, his height easily towering over my own.

 “I want Markarth. I want to rule as a Jarl, and to be a Regent King of its people.”

Many shrieks of disbelief and hushed whispers spoke all around me as Ulfric hesitated to answer. Ulfric gazed at me, his expression unreadable and his stance like stone.

**“No.”**

The crowd was dead silent, avoiding my gaze. I stepped closer, raising my head slightly. _“What?”_

 “You are not deaf. Is it not enough that you are thane of the nine Holds and Arch Mage of the College? Is your greed that insatiable that you would want a Hold as well, and one of the richest at that?” Venom dripped in every of the High King’s words, and the crowd remained dead silent.

Anger surged through me like a hurricane and it took all of my power not to shout Ulfric through the castle wall.

Clenching my fists, I could feel my knuckles turning white. “I never asked you for anything. I am your most loyal soldier. I have killed for you, and bled for you…”

 ** _“My own daughter died for you!”_**   My thu’um shook the ground, making many stumble. Ulfric remained intact, seeming unfazed by my reaction.

“I deeply regret your loss. But you are not the only one who has lost their siblings. You think your daughter matters more than the men around you who have lost their own homes, brothers, sisters, and their lives? You are not the only one to suffer grief...and you won’t be the last. Tell me, Dragonborn...does Lillith Ravenblade have greater importance than the lives that were lost all around you?”

“..Well why don’t you tell me then, ‘ _Bear of Markarth’_...I could pose the same question as you that you posed to the Forsworn. You didn’t have a problem taking their heads like you do your own poultry.”

In spite of the many gasps and angry curses I received, Ulfric’s calm demeanor never wavered, but on the inside I knew I struck more than a few nerves.

“That was a different time-”

“Well indeed it was. But the way I see it, it’s no different than this. You obliterated one group of people, and installed another one. They didn’t call you the Bear of Markarth for nothing. Tell me, Ulfric...how many heads did you take when you took that city from the Forsworn? And before you even say it-no, I am not a Forsworn sympathizer.

“...Well, I don’t know if you call it that, but as I remember it...history is written by those who can lie the best. And from what I can tell Ulfric, you are full of shit.”

The crowd roared and gasped in unimaginable shock at my words. Many even attempted to step near me, but with one look from my gaze was a promised death. Galmar stepped forward, his sore voice not even a match to my own thu’um.

“You are talking to your King! How dare you disrespect the one man that gave you kindness all these years! The very man you swore fealty-”

“Oh no...not _my_ King. No, I can’t follow this man.” I look to those around me and point to the man who is less than ten feet from me. “This man is a murderer.”

Ulfric gave a small chuckle, his anger quickly losing control. “You know...they took me when I was a boy. When I was eight years old, I walked the 3,000 steps, lived among the Greybeards...and learned the Way of the Voice...for ten years. For ten years, I learned nothing but what the Greybeards pushed down my throat.”

His very demeanor changed to something maddening...something near demonic. Every word was laced with venom, and hatred. He looked up to me, a sinister smile on his lips.

“And then...here you come. A man barely as knowledgeable as a peasant-a man barely even counted among his own people! Ha!” Ulfric gives a well-tempered chortle, rubbing his knuckles together.

“... _’Dragonborn’_. Given so effortlessly...so unceremoniously...without anything done to earn that title...And they...they love you. They call you a hero. But I see the reality. I can see the very man you are. You are no hero. You are an opportunist.”

The wind was still, and no one spoke. The tension was quite unnerving. I walked the steps, less than three feet away from Ulfric.

                      “Oh really? You know...I didn’t come to you Ulfric. You came to me. And to top it off, you wouldn’t have the position as High King without my help. I don’t care what your lowly advisors, your soldiers, or what Stonefist says. Or even what you claim. I don’t care what you think you were born to. Your birth right doesn’t concern me. What does concern me is that you were supposed to help those people. And when you lied to the Forsworn, they turned on you. What do you think desperate people are going to do Ulfric? When you throw them from their homes, murder their children, and starve them, what do you think they’re going to do?” I circled him, his soldiers and advisors nearby protesting were silenced by my gaze.

 

“You really are the ‘Bear of Markarth’. And I do see you...for your vanity. And I’m trying so hard to restore balance to this broken land. The balance that you claimed mattered more than anything! The silver in Skyrim will flow Ulfric-just not through your hands.”

“This is not about the silver-”

   “Oh like hell it isn’t. This is about the silver. I talked to the Silver-blood family-I know what you told them. I’ve even spoken to the previous Jarl...and I know what you told him too. I read the history books, I even talked to the King in Rags. I even helped spring him from prison. I even took his life...for you. I was given a vision, by the goddess of twilight. Through her divine power, I watched you slaughter their people as if I was right there with you. I don’t care what you believe, I don’t care where you stand with the Daedra. None of that matters. What matters is that I saw what you did.”

Ulfric cocked his head to the side, seeming amused. “So you want Markarth...Dragonborn, I don’t understand your reasoning here. You’re the thane of nine Holds, the Arch Mage of the college...and the people love you. You have their favor, their influence, and their fealty. You say that you do not want to wage a war with me...and here you are, starting for one. I want balance to this land! I want-”

      “As long as you suppress the Forsworn, even though they are far away in the Reach...the Reach will become a sore, festering disease that will destroy everything that you hold so much value to. Do you really want to undo everything we’ve accomplished here? I am not asking Markarth for myself, Ulfric. That’s what you refuse to acknowledge, and I’m telling you...that is not why I want Markarth. If you give Markarth back to the Forsworn, they will forgive you. And they will follow you. And this land can be whole once more. And I can go about my life in peace.”

 Ulfric stomps his foot down, his voice echoing throughout the city. “Dragonborn, I have heard enough! By right, and by blood, and by the effort and the burdens on all our shoulders, and the deaths of our brothers and sisters of true Nords…”

Ulfric walks towards me, his demeanor radiating rage within seconds. **_“I WILL NOT EVER...permit the Forsworn...to rule in Markarth.”_**

Every word stringed with venom and the man I once knew had just revealed his true dark nature.

“You can do what you must. If it means turning your back on me, and on all that we’ve accomplished here, then so be it. We-”

“Where do you get this ‘we’, Ulfric? Where were you? I was in the Reach. Here you were, sitting on your high born ass in Windhelm, oblivious of what was going on beyond your borders. So if I’m correct, it doesn’t matter to you of what happens to Markarth. I guess that what it comes down to is this...”

I turn to the people, gesturing with open arms and a look of disgust. “I would direct my energy to you, the people. How many of you people call yourselves true Nords? Well, I’d be careful of how you put that. A true Nord would do anything they could to get rid of the College in Winterhold, and discontinue magic throughout all of Skyrim. And magic has been part of this life force that holds everything together. Its very nature courses through the veins of Skyrim. This man misleads you. In one breath he promises freedom, and yet in another he yanks away the very thing that so many of us cherish; our freedom to teach magic and practice it. How many of you truly think you are safe? Once he’s settled himself in Solitude, he’ll replace all of the Jarls in the Hold. What makes you think he won’t tear the Winterhold College down?”

Galmar steps forward, enraged by my speech. “You don’t know what’s in the hearts of these men! You’re just a-”

I stomped my foot, a crater leaving its place and the Podium shaking slightly. “I’m just what? A peasant? A slave to your cause? You had your chance. If you will not give the Forsworn back their land, their magic...then the services of the college WILL NOT flow to ANY of your Provinces. So long as you sit as High King.”

I turn to the people. “And to those of you who still hang on to the belief that you are free, don’t be disillusioned. You follow this man, and he will cripple you. He will break his promise of freedom, and he will discriminate those of you who are anything but Nord, or are friends to those who aren’t. Look at the elves that were treated like skeevers in Windhelm. In his own Hold! Ulfric is a leech who feeds on those who are too weak to even defend themselves! They weren’t in any way allied with the Empire or the Thalmor! And yet, he treats them as such."

 **"I am not asking. As Arch Mage of the college, I decree a full ban on any participation-on any land stride throughout the Provinces. All schools of magic, through Restoration and Illusion, from this day hence are forbade to give aid of any kind to any of the Holds in Skyrim. And I am recalling every mage from every Hold, under every Jarl-even yours Ulfric- to return to the college until further notice. And those who don’t will be put to death. So help me by the Nine. So it be written. So it be done.** "


	2. Deceit, lost memories and lies-oh my!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The introduction of Celine was made by a friend of mine. It was thanks to her that I made this chapter a success. Enjoy!

_The Nine guide and protect us. The Nine Divines created us in their image, and they gave us the meaning of life. They will protect you from everything, so long as you kneel before their shrines and beg for hours for your prayers to be answered. Some prayers are unanswered, and according to the priests, we do not question our faith. We do not question the Divines, for everything is pre-determined, our fates decided and our lives to be dictated by the sins we commit. I was raised to believe this. And given how young I was, I couldn’t deny this truth._

_My Mother, Alice Ravenblade raised me well. Being a true believer in Mara, the goddess of compassion, I was taught to give and receive love. I lived in Helgan for as long as I can remember. Feeling concealed, I would always climb the roof of our cottage and gaze beyond the walls, imagining what it’d be like to leave it. I would fantasize this on a daily basis, anything to make my dull life seem nothing more than a stepping stone. Little did I know, that day came sooner than I expected._

__

**_13 years ago…_ **

__

_My Mother stirred the beef stew gingerly as I swept the floor in silence. Nothing in the cabin could be heard but the soft bristles of the broom hitting the floor, and the crackling fire. The smell of chicken and spices filled the air, making my mouth water. As I completed the rest of my chores, I plopped down in the seat as my Mother sat across from me, filling two bowls with an iron ladle. I slowly reached over to grasp my bowl, finally gazing at my Mother. She looked awful._

_Her once straight raven locks were gnarled and frizzed at the tips, and her grey eyes seemed aging with fatigue. Her pale skin hadn’t changed, but she was obviously tired._

_We ate our stew in silence, not even glancing at one another. After my second refill of stew, I decided to break the tension._

_“...You never did tell me about my Father.”_

_My Mother dropped the wooden spoon entirely, glaring at the table._

_“Lillith...this is hardly the time-”_

_“Why do you always avoid this subject?”_

_“I’m tired, can we please just-”_

_“Just what? Forget about it? I deserve to know!”_

_“Lillith, enough!”_

_I sat there, silent with rage._

_My Mother swept her hair back, staring at the table with widened eyes. She turned to me, opening her mouth, and closing it again. The very expression on her face made me think she was holding a dark secret within, one that was burning in the pit of her stomach. I shivered at the thought. Within moments, it clicked inside my mind instinctively; that was exactly what was happening. Overwhelming sympathy enveloped me, and a thousand apologies threatened to spill forth, but I contained it. I sat up, strolling slowly towards my Mother. She was in a daze, staring forward. She was miles away, and her cheeks were stained with tears. I could feel so much pain emanating from her, as if her eyes danced a shimmering fire of secrets only she could decipher._

_“Mom?” I said, slightly shaking her. She seemed unfazed, and she slowly looked at me with those wide eyes. Her eyes were nothing like they once were. Those beautiful silver eyes had become something of a dream. The eyes that I see now were filled with ancient miseries and secrets unfathomable by man. My own eyes felt unworthy of unlocking those hidden secrets. The answer was right there, plain and evident...but I had no knowledge of how to, and no key._

_Her eyes felt like a spell, and they looked like a portal, drawing me in and blanking my mind._

_I shook my head, looking back at her. She looked as if she had seen a ghost, and her eyes were wide and her mouth agape. She looked...insane._

__

_Before I could ask, before I could say anything, the fire distinguished, making everything around me dark. My own Mother’s eyes glowing a crimson yellow in the darkness for a split second, before the fire crackled and came to life, almost unperturbed in any natural way._

_I stood there, confused and my legs trembled in fear._

_My Mother woke up from her daze, and her silver eyes seemed normal once more._

_Before I could say anything, my Mother bolted upright, and glared at me._

_“Go to your room. Lock the door. Wait for me.” I didn’t dare question her as I hesitantly walked up the stairs. I felt myself recovering from shock. With a deceptive mind, I hid in the corner threshold of the patio of the steps, and hid from view._

_My Mother carefully removed the cauldron and pushed things around hurriedly. She opened a cabinet, and shifted things around and threw some potatoes and wine out. The bottles smashed and a crimson river stained and spilled the floor. As if finding what my Mother was searching for, she pulled several glass vials and a bowl of something gray. She spread it around the floor, grabbing each vial and pouring it into the fire. Each time my Mother poured in a vial, the fire hissed and grew bigger. Finally she grabbed the bowl of grey dust and through the entire bowl inside. The fire rose up on its own accord, and it turned blue-ish green...and then a dark red._

_A shape of a person was coming from the fire, bathed in flames of red._

_It quickly left the person’s skin, and black eight-legged creatures a foot tall spilled out of the fire one by one. The fire returned to its normal size, but it remained a crimson red color. I could finally see the figure. It was a woman. She wore a see-through black silk bodice, her frame tall and curvy. Her feet were bare, and  spiders stood around them. Her hair was black as night, and shadows danced behind her like a thousand hands. Her face was pale and her eyes purple like nightshade with a black iris. She was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen in my entire life. She looked like a demon._

_The demoness gazed at my mother with a small glare. My Mother knelt and bowed her head, muttering many apologies. The demoness rolled her head back and laughed, stroking the head of a rather large spider beside her. The woman’s voice was as smooth as silk, and seductive like a hidden flame._

_**“Time is of utmost importance. Your insolent and unprepared manner of summoning me has cost you my respect.”** The being spoke in a cold tone, her amusement long gone._

**_“That aside, you know why I am here. And why it will always be like this.”_ **

_My Mother nodded slowly, not even meeting the gaze of the demoness._

**_“You must follow my every command without question. The spirit is awakening soon, and your daughter will inherit this burden.”_ **

_My Mother bolted upright. “You can’t do that! She-”_

**_“This is not something within my control. This is going to happen. And you’ve no right to tell me what I can or cannot do. The distortion is something that can’t be reversed. Which means our deal...has a crack.”_ **

_“I-”_

**_“I understand that it wasn’t your fault. But the deal has changed. I cannot protect your daughter or the future children, which means I can do as I please with her. And when the time comes, I will take what was rightfully mine. For now, enjoy what little time you have with her. You have only days before the end is near...regardless of what your former lover will live to be. The hour of your death is near, and your efforts are in vain. Give the child to me now, or I will stand idly by as Helgan  burns down.”_ **

_I shifted my foot, and knocked something over. The spiders hissed, and sure enough, My Mother and the demoness whipped their heads towards me. Chills ran down my spine instantly, and I felt frozen in place. Slowly, I stood up, silently cursing myself. The demoness reached out her hand, and beckoned me forward. I didn’t move an inch. I was too frightened._

_**“Come child.”** She said, still reaching out her hand. I gulped and slowly walked forward, never taking my eyes off of the demoness. When I stood in front of her, the more terrifying and beautiful she was. She was over 7ft tall, her eyes jet black. Her black bodice could trace the shape of her breasts, and the curve of her hips, and just below the bodice was a see-through skirt. I stared at her in awe and terror, ignoring her offered hand._

__

_**“Do you know what I am?”** she asked, looking at me like I was an interesting creature._

_“A demoness?” I asked. I couldn’t help but stare at her. She was beautiful...but in a dark and enchanting way. She gave a small smile._

**_“I am a Daedric Prince. A god-like being. I am Mephala, and my titles are Web-spinner, Spinner, and Spider. My sphere is lies, fornication, and secrecy. You have just turned 9, and it would seem that our contract with your bloodline has ended. It is not entirely your fault, but I will not hold my end of the bargain. Your great grandmother was an assassin of the Dark Brotherhood, and every daughter follows in their Mother’s footsteps. But since your Grandmother gave birth to your Mother after the time that Mehrunes Dagon was destroyed, there has been some...complications. If Dagon had never come, the first child wouldn’t have been a miscarriage.”_ **

****

_I looked at her dumbfounded. “I don’t understand…”_

__

_**“Of course you don’t. You’re a child, and you’re mortal. No one your age would be capable of comprehending everything I had just said.”** _

_I furrowed my brow. This didn’t really add up.“Then why are you telling me this?” I asked, cocking my head to the side._

_Mephala mirrored my stance, seeming amused. **“Because you will have no memory of this.”**_

***

** _Present time_ **

**  
  
  
**

The Winking Skeever was rather lively tonight. Explorers and locals alike conglomerated, swapping tall tales and rumors alike. A bard strummed her elegant lyre, her rich voice rising amongst the rowdy cacophony. An Argonian leaned in to whisper into a Nord's ear, making her blush. A group of mercenaries gambled by the fire, boos and cheers rising with each toss of the die. The smell of unwashed bodies, perfume, sweat, and booze laced breath could be smelled with each inhale.

In the darkest and quietest corner of the bar, a hooded figure examined the rabble, curls of fire red hair spilling from her cowl and down her chest. Her mud caked boots were propped on the table, but the barmaid or owner didn't have the guts to ask her to place her feet on the floor where they belonged. With every puff of her pipe, the embers temporarily flared, revealing the spark of sharp green eyes. By all accounts, the casual way she was seated screamed relaxed, but those eyes said something else entirely; they glimmered with hostility and wariness, an attribute more common amongst the rabid wolves of Skyrim than the civilized folk enjoying a drink. She was tense, ready to spring out the door or at a person's throat at the slightest provocation. She loathed crowded areas. Or any areas with humans in them, for that matter.

In the opposite corner and in the neighboring table, another cloaked figure sipped from a cup of spiced wine, their back facing the bounty hunter. The antisocial Nord immediately took a disliking to this mysterious person when they turned their head slightly, revealing a mask. Who in the world wears a mask to a bar?

"...Celine." The bounty hunter's keen ears immediately perked, recognizing the voice of Corpulus Vinius, the owner of the bar. "She's the one you're looking for if you want a job done right. But she only hunts murderers, vampires, and werewolves. I wouldn't bother her with any other requests, if I were you."

The bounty hunter cracked her knuckles one by one before taking another deep inhale from her pipe. Sure enough, a Breton sauntered over to her little dark corner. She could practically smell the money on him from the finely embroidered clothes he wore down to his soft doe skin shoes. A merchant of some type, she guessed. The kind who hid safely away from the wild behind stone walls and plush carpets, nose buried in ledgers and numbers.

"Are you Celine?"

The bounty hunter exhaled a cloud of smoke, giving only the slightest of nods of confirmation.

He smiled cordially, "My name is Mathias. May I sit?"

Celine only stared. The silence stretched between them, making the man fidget and his smile forced.

"Well, no matter. I heard you take jobs and I happen to have one." He leaned in, placing two hands on the round table. Celine bristled, and would have socked him right then and there if he weren't a potential client. What made him think he could touch _her_ table or encroach on her personal space?

"There's a thief who stole something very valuable to me. I need him apprehended, along with the family heirloom he stole."

There was another stretch of silence as Celine took another drag from her pipe and Mathias waited for some sort of sign that she was listening. When no verbal affirmation came, he pressed on.

"It's an amethyst necklace," He continued, "It has been in my family for decades and it went missing last night. I suspect it as the work of the thieves guild, so it is imperative that it is re-discovered before they sell it to-"

"I don't care." Celine finally spoke, her voice gravelly from lack of use.

Mathias seemed taken aback, "Come again? I didn't even state the amount I'm willing to pay. Five thousand septims! I'll add a bonus-"

"Did you not listen to the bartender, boy?" She growled, even though the man was clearly her senior, "I only hunt murderers who deserve to die. You know why? Because I only bring back heads."

"Is it possible to make an exception? Bring the thief back alive, and I'll give you-"

Celine stood fast, knocking her chair back. She reached across the table, grabbing the surprised merchant by the collar of his fancy robe, clenching her teeth to prevent the pipe falling from her scarred lips.

 _"Not. Interested."_ The bounty hunter grated before shoving Mathias back, releasing him. He stumbled, appalled. The merchant was not used to such disrespectful treatment. Normally, he would have immediately stood up for himself, but a wise instinct told him that such an act would immediately devolve into a brawl, wealthy merchant or not. As a man who's most physically exerting feat was walking across town, he would definitely lose a battle of fists with this experience hardened brute.

Gathering the shreds of his dignity, Mathias spun on his heel, marching straight towards the bartender to express his grievances. Lucky for Celine, she was quite used to such interactions and had already taken preliminary steps. All it took was ten septims and the bartender wouldn't kick her out for disgruntling other guests. Corpulus would pretend to deal with the issue, of course, soothing the customer and promising to set the hunter straight - but the most he would ever do is visit her table, muttering that he was only here to make it look like she was getting reprimanded. If it was a particularly nasty customer, she would give him a few more septims for his trouble, thus strengthening their working relationship. Then he would offer to refill her mug with mead, and she would accept.

Celine righted the chair, catching the eye of the neighboring masked patron while doing so. They had twisted in their seat to watch the commotion, her bone mask catching the fire light. A red haired jester had joined this odd patron, and was currently shoving sticky chunks of sweet roll in his mouth, oblivious to the spectacle that had captured his companions attention.

The bounty hunter glared menacingly at the masked spectator, daring them to make some derogatory comment. But none came, their mouth only curling in silent amusement.

Something felt… off about this person. Celine couldn't put her finger on it, but just looking at this individual raised her hackles - more so than usual, anyways. She glared at them a moment longer, and they stared back, neither cowed by the hostile hunter nor provoking her into further action. The stare down was interrupted when the jester said something to catch his companions attention, and the masked woman tittered, turning back around.

The hunter harrumphed, plopping back into her seat and resting her filthy boots on the table once more, waiting for a more interesting client to dare approach.

***

 

Lillith’s P.O.V.

Cicero rolled his eyes and gave the woman a lazy smile. “Cicero, stop. You’re only going to piss her off.”

Cicero gripped his chin, narrowing his eyes as he did so. A small smile stretched across his pale face. “Cicero sees, but Cicero does not believe. So much fire...fiery woman…” He said, giving a dark chuckle to himself. I felt a chill run down my spine. I haven’t seen this side of Cicero since…

Cicero raised his eyes to me in concern. “Are you alright?”

I cleared my throat, reaching for my drink. “Of course.” I lied.

Damn him! He can read me, even through this mask!

In a flash, I felt my mask being torn away from my face, and I saw Cicero examining it with mock interest.

“Oooh, shiny!” He spit-shined the mask. I reached for it, only to have Cicero hold it higher.

“Cicero, that mask is priceless! Give it back to me!”

I kept trying to grab it from him, only for him to hold it higher without effort. He gave me a mischievous smile mixed with childlike innocence.

“What’s it called?”

Hearing a few chuckles around the bar, my cheeks both flushed in anger and embarrassment. “Krosis! Now hand it over! You’re making a scene!”

“Why do you wear it?”

“Cicero I swear-”

“Why do you need it?”

“This isn’t funny, Cicero-”

“Why is it green?”

_“Why are you so childish?”_

“Why is the sky blue?”

Cicero gave a childish grin, his eyes glinting with mischief. He tossed it to me and I caught it in time. Scowling at Cicero, I turned my gaze to the people watching us. They mostly just shook their heads and returned to their drinks and conversations. I gave a shaky breath, feeling Cicero lean back as the table gave an annoying squeak. I gave him a menacing glare. “This isn’t funny, Cicero. When are you going to take this seriously?”

He only gave me a lazy smile in return. “Jhono gave me this mask. This isn’t some lousy trinket that you can play with. It holds so much enchantments and it once belonged to a Dragon Priest-”

“Cicero is tired. Cicero only wants Lillith to relax and enjoy the evening. Why does Lillith wear a silly mask?”

“...I’m wearing it to conceal my identity.”

Cicero looked at me with a raised brow. “...Why? Most of these people already know you, and those who pose a threat are already dead.”

“Cicero...it’s not the same. Lore told me that because I am reborn, I…”

I stopped dead, and Cicero gave me an odd glance. I smiled and gave a nervous chuckle. “Sheogorath has already met me, you know…”

Cicero was about to say something, but he gave a menacing glance towards the entrance. I followed his gaze. A man dressed in black robes walked right in, his sight hungry for everything in his path. His hair was dark brown and held up in a neat ponytail and his face looked slightly aged...almost like he was aging. But for some reason, it looked fake. I didn’t understand why Cicero was glaring until I saw the stranger’s eyes...and when I did, a lump caught in my throat and my heart sunk. His eyes were glowing a faint crimson red. He was a vampire.

This wasn’t a good sign. Vampires who show up in a place crowded with humans usually have only one motive: a blood bath.

Luckily, Cicero and I were prepared for that. During the time when we used to be assassins for the Night Mother, Cicero had accompanied me for a contract in Windhelm. When we were halfway there, we noticed a tavern/inn in the middle of no where. We were both tired and hungry and sick of the snowstorm, so naturally we stepped inside. There were almost a dozen people on the floor dead. The floor was barely damp with blood and every single of of those people had pinpricks in their neck.

Cicero left the table and sat at the bar a few feet away from me. He gave me a quick smile and patted the ebony dagger at the side of his waist. I nodded for the signal. The stranger suddenly locked eyes with me. He smiled and strolled towards me. I slid my hand below the table and clutched the hilt of my glass dagger. I tried swallowing the lump in my throat as I noticed the people around me doing nothing. Why had no one noticed?

Strangely, the vampire didn’t attack me. He sat right in front of me and made himself comfortable.

I noticed that he wore a golden necklace with an amethyst stone. He gave me a small smile and I involuntarily shivered. He was the first to speak.

“Lillith Ravenblade. It is an honor to meet you.” He bowed his head and I stared at him. “Who are you? What do you want?”

**“I am Vicente Valtiere...and I’m a former member of the Dark Brotherhood.”**


	3. Dead Roses do come back

Fear struck me like a hidden dagger.  The greatest horrors of my past had come back to haunt me.  Time was still…so still that it seemed nonexistent. I could feel my heart beating rapidly and an invisible blow knocking the wind out of me.  Adrenaline coursed through my veins, and I could almost feel myself on the brink of killing this stranger.

 

Vicente smiled. “I can feel the thud of your heartbeat trying to pound its way out of your chest. I can see the fear in your eyes. Lillith, think about what you’re doing. We wouldn’t want a rash decision…especially in front of your jester and countless other people around you.”

 

I snapped my eyes shut. I could see flashes of my memories in the Dark Brotherhood…I could see red and black…blood and fire…and death…                                                                                                                             

 

How could I be so stupid? He must’ve planned this. My limbs trembled and my heart sank like an anchor. Letting out a shaky breath, I tried to calm myself. It barely helped. It took all of my will to not stammer in front of the vampire. “What do you want?” I asked, my voice cracking at the end. I finally opened my eyes, giving in to the fact that the scene in front of me wouldn’t change one bit. Vicente gave me a sympathetic smile. “Do not let my presence unnerve you. My own needs of being a vampire come second in situations like this.”

 

“That’s not what I’m worried about.” I admitted. I gripped my glass dagger, holding on to it as if it were my dear life. And in this case…it seemed it certainly would be. Vicente gave me a sideways glance, seeming amused by my fear. We didn’t speak for many seconds. I could feel the sweat sliding off my face like rain. Everyone was quite…oblivious. I slowly turned my gaze around the bar, and surprisingly there were some people staring at the stranger and me in shock and hushed whispers. Even the bounty hunter in the corner gave a suspicious glance towards my direction, slowly reaching for her blade.

 

“Is there a problem?” I nearly jumped out of my skin hearing my Jester’s voice. He stood beside my chair, barely acknowledging my existence as he stared venomously at Vicente. Just looking at Cicero’s face made me cringe. I had rarely seen his anger in the past two years, but even then it terrified me to no end. Cicero tapped his foot impatiently, gripping his ebony dagger. I held my mask Krosis so tightly that a crack appeared near the eye.

 

Vicente gave Cicero a gently smile, seeming oblivious to his menacing stance. “Not at all. Please, why don’t you sit with us, Cicero?”

 

Cicero sat frozen in place, his eyes widened in shock. I let the Krosis mask fall to the floor, making a slight crunch sound. I didn’t really care. I held my head in my hands, my finger nails digging into the sides of my face. He knows about Cicero…this is worse than I thought. I was near on the verge of tears when Cicero sat beside me, and I could feel how rigid he was. He sat right next to me, our sides touching each other’s. I felt a small bit of warmth from his body, and I desperately focused on that to calm myself. Vicente gave a dark glare to those who were watching us; and then everyone went back to their business. I let out a shaky breath, feeling slightly better.  Cicero didn’t change one bit. He stood there, silent hatred gleaming in his brown eyes. I gazed at the bar one last time, and the red-headed bounty hunter was sitting there, glaring in my direction.

 

Vicente gave a sadistic smile. “I know who you both are. Cicero, Keeper of the Night Mother’s coffin. And Lillith Ravenblade…the Listener.” I felt nausea hit me. This speech absolutely sickened me. My Heart pounded in my ears and I felt icy-hot chills run up and down my spine. I didn’t dare look in his demonic eyes. I stared down at my lap, seeing that the Krosis mask had split in half. I reached for Cicero’s hand (which was still holding the dagger) and curled my fingers beneath his gloved finger tips. Cicero didn’t hesitate as he curled his fingers around mine.

“ _The_ Listener? Lillith, the Listener…hmmm…such a nice ring to it, don’t you think? I must say, it is a huge honor to meet you in person.”

I didn’t respond. Cicero held my hand tightly, and I could feel him slightly trembling in fear and possibly rage.

_“Lillith is dead.”_

All eyes turned on me. I resisted the urge to cover my mouth. What the hell are you thinking?! I mentally screamed at myself. The way I said it…it was calm and callous. The room and everyone it just…shut out. And for some reason, I couldn’t stop myself from speaking. It was as if a part of me inside was fighting to be heard, “I am not the Listener. Nor will I ever be. The Dark brotherhood is gone. It is dead to me. I am no longer a puppet for the Night Mother’s amusement, nor am I yours. Leave now, creature of the night.”

The words I just said…they were mine…but I didn’t say them. It was as if a part of me was trying to break through. Could it be? My past self…is it finally catching up to me…?

Vicente gave a hearty laugh, bringing me back to reality like a lightning strike. I felt slightly dizzy, but I had seen golden yellow eyes mirroring back at me…almost as if I were looking at my reflection in a glass window. It was slightly faded, but it was still there. A small voice spoke through me…but what was most terrifying was that it sounded as my own. **_He will trick you. He will deceive you. He is going to kill you._**

The eyes and the voice abruptly stopped when Vicente spoke. “How poetic, my lady. I think there has been a misunderstanding. I said that I once was allied with the Dark Brotherhood…I never said that I swore fealty to Sithis. If that were the case, you would have been killed faster than your little friend could’ve reached his dagger. And then, it would be a blood bath…so in other words, it would be very unfortunate for the both of you. Of course, I couldn’t help seeing you squirm just a little…it has been a very long time since I laughed.” He closed his eyes, sighing.

Cicero held my own hand between his own, gently gripping it. He has calmed down. My throat was incredibly dry…

 “That doesn’t make sense. If that’s really the case…then why are you here?”

Vicente gave an eerie grin…the kind that I was used to seeing in Cicero.  “I might as well start from the beginning…you see…I was a member of the Dark Brotherhood…about five hundred years ago.  I loved everyone there. I loved my life. And even more, I was overjoyed knowing that these kind people accepted me and even envied my unique talents.”

This was absolutely sickening. He spoke of the guild of assassins as if it were a real family. It takes a really twisted mind just to feel that way about it…

That was a mistake. I gazed at Cicero, silently apologizing to him. I had known Cicero for 7 years. He…he taught me how to read. When I was silent and dead inside, he helped me open up. He loved me…like a sister. He never gave up on me. And in the end…he was all I had.

“Being around long enough to see brothers and sisters come and go became a slight...problem. There had been talk of a traitor amongst us. This was during the same time that a newcomer had joined. Absolved from any suspicion, she stayed long enough to how I say... _ **fix**_ the family. By earning the trust of the Speaker, Lucien Lachance...she was assigned a job to kill everyone in the Cheydinhal Sanctuary. And she nearly succeeded.”

Vicente closed his eyes. His once arrogant posture had transformed him into a man with an ancient misery held within. He snapped his eyes open, gazing at the ceiling. “I had loved her at the time. She was so beautiful...the kind of beauty that was dark...like a black rose. Mmm…”

Folding his knuckles and resting his chin on them, he closed his eyes in deep concentration. I felt a pang at my heart for the man. All of a sudden, I felt the need to touch him...the need to be with him…

What in the name of the Nine is happening to me? I had barely met this man, yet I felt a terrible yearning for him. I felt as if I had known him long before…

“...She spared me that day...the day that the sanctuary burned to the ground. As she stared down at my limp body, the flames rising behind her...I knew it was my end. I knew what was to come. She then did the one thing that shocked me. She grabbed my hand and dragged my scorched body across the underground pavement of the floor and out to the rising dawn. She knelt beside me and whispered one word, ‘Go’.”

Vicente twiddled his thumbs, his brow burrowed in complete misery. After a few moments, he finally met my gaze. “...I never saw her again. To this day, I am in her debt...and now, I want to repay her.”

I gazed at Cicero, and his face was no longer a glare...but confusion. I felt his arm slide behind my back and hook onto my waist. I felt calmer than before. I was almost at ease...but this stuff didn’t really add up.

“What does any of this have to do with me?”

Vicente gave me a weak smile. “You are her great granddaughter.”

I stared at Vicente as the world fell beneath me...like the many times before. A blow to the chest, and once again, I’m faced with the reality that everything I had once known...was a lie.

“ _What?_ How...no...it-no...no.”

Vicente raised a brow. “Hard to believe, isn’t it? Believe me, I know…”

This is just too much! All these truths...all these lies. All of these lives I had once lived...they’re coming back to haunt me. Why? No one should live with this pain...I wouldn’t wish this upon my greatest enemy. Is it possible to die from this?

I felt a hand over my own, ice cold and stiff like stone. I jerked away, trying to compose myself. Tears were already spilling forth. I jumped from my seat, knocking the chair over and screamed before I could stop myself, _“How dare you! You would go through all of this trouble just to torment me?! Just to remind me of the horrors of my past, claiming to do that for good intention...You are so full of shit! I never wanted this! I am no longer your slave! I am not your puppet! And I am not YOUR LISTENER!”_

I screamed so loud that everyone’s attention was turned on me. I turned to them, giving them a very dark glare. “What the fuck are _you_ looking at?!” I yelled at them. They were silent for a few seconds and slowly returned to their own business. Without thinking, I yanked Cicero by his arm, pulling him up harshly. “Come on Cicero. We’re leaving.” I left the table, and before I reached the door, Vicente’s smooth voice wavered over the crowd, “This is far from over, m’lady. I will pay in my debt full, whether you like it or not.”

**I slowly turned to him, my eyes like fire. “Leave now, while you still can. Because if you don’t, I will hunt you down and kill you. And when I have your head, I will mount it on my manor...for the world to see.”**


	4. Delirium at its greatest

“Lillith...Lillith?” Cicero asked, trying to grab my attention. I was too preoccupied with my thoughts to give him a response. My rage was almost blinding. As we were under the giant arch to the other part of town, rain fell. I stopped, still holding Cicero. The rain started falling so hard that it stung my skin. I released Cicero without word, clenching my fists to my sides. Why? Why is this happening to me? No one deserves this much misery and confusion...I never meant to be an assassin. I never meant to be the daughter of the Dragonborn...and I never meant to be a Daedra. It’s nothing more than a sick joke.

And Cicero...where does he fit into all of this? Now that I look back on this...Cicero was the most faithful believer in the Night Mother. He believed in her, when no one else did. He treasured her as if she were really his Mother...even beyond that.

His madness...it was her gift. She gave him that...and now that it still lingers...is he still under her control? I turned to Cicero, gazing at his confused expression. Did he...did he want this? Did he choose to be a part of this? Or did I force him into it? If he really chose to be with me...then the question is...what am I? Am I a replacement? Am I just a twisted version of what he once believed in?

“Cicero...why don’t you head back without me? I...I need time to be left alone.” He looked at me in shock. He slowly reached out to me, and I cringed. “Lillith...what is wrong? Please, tell poor Cicero.”

“I’m alright. I just need time...to myself. You’ve nothing to worry about. Please, just...go.” I was holding myself tightly, shivering from the rain. Cicero tried to move closer, and I snapped. “Just go! Alright?! I’m fine-I...” That was a bit harsh… I shuddered, trying to compose myself. I didn’t dare look him in the eye. “Cicero, I’m sorry...I...I just...I have a lot on my mind right now...especially given what just happened. I…”

“I understand. I will leave you. I just...I don’t understand what I did wrong.” Before I could reply, Cicero had already left. I felt a pang of guilt. Cicero didn’t deserve this...especially from me.

For the next few hours in the night, I spent my time near the small cemetery graves, rain pouring hard on me and a handful of nightshade flowers in my hands, the thorns stained with my blood.

“Here I’d thought you’d be on the run again…” Vicente’s smooth voice made me bolt from the rail near the graves. I went to grab my glass dagger, only to find out it wasn’t at my side. Panicking, I desperately searched around for something…

“Looking for this?” Vicente casually said, twirling my glass dagger in his hand. He stood less than ten paces from me. “I didn’t want you to attack me without giving me a full hearing.”

“I already heard your lies. There is nothing more to be said. I already promised I’d kill you, and I’d never go back on that.”

Within a flash, Vicente was right in front of me, and I nearly jumped back. He was at least 6 ft tall, towering over my pathetic height of 4 ft 9 inches. He handed me the dagger, and gripped my hand and guided it to his neck. He regarded me with a look of ultimate disdain and sorrow.

“You want to kill me? Now’s your chance. But know this...I am thee only one who knows anything about your family tree. I am the only one who knows your enemies as well as your friends. I have been watching since the moment you were brought into this world. I know your darkest secrets, and I know what you really are. If you kill me, I guarantee...you will lose everything. Everything and everyone you once held dear will be wiped away from you. If it weren’t for your Great Grand Mother, I wouldn’t be here...and neither would you. Make your choice.”

I was stunned. Whatever this man...this monster claimed to be...if I refused his help, he could be added to my list of enemies. But if I accepted him, he could be some sort of spy...or he already is. But still...there was a chance that he’d be telling the truth. What choice did I have?

I slowly slid my hand from his grasp, putting my glass dagger in its sheath. “If what you say is true, then you had better tell me everything. But if you ever betray me...make no mistake. I will kill you. I’ve dealt with enough bullshit these past years, so you can’t really blame me for my reaction. If you wish to pay in your debt, you will abide by my rules. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

***

Seeing no other way for Vicente to follow his word, I let him in my manor. Of course, there were some complications...Cicero was not exactly pleased. He demonstrated by putting his ebony dagger to the throat of Vicente. Luckily, I had talked him out of it. For the next few days, Cicero was not the same. He was always silent, daydreaming, and he barely ate. Of course I knew why...and I felt terrible about it. But in spite of what I did to cheer him up, he didn’t change one bit. The rain was pouring hard for a straight week, and it was always freezing in the manor. Vicente and I barely talked about what happened. I had my reasons, or course. Lore, my familiar would be here soon, sharing rumors of the Daedra and strange happenings. He knew everything, and he’d probably shed some light on Vicente.

...But there’s a small problem.  Lore has kept things from me countless times before. How can I trust a familiar if he can’t even tell me the things I needed to know. I swear...one way or another, I will get my answers. If I have to ring his neck to get him to talk, then so be it.

The day that the rain fell heaviest was the day I finally decided to sleep in early. When I went up stairs to my canopy bed, I felt the hairs on my neck rise. For a split second, I had seen something blue flash across my face. Chills ran down my spine, but I tried to convince myself it was nothing.

When I slept, I had a living nightmare.

_It was Helgan...minutes before it had burned down. My Mother, Alice Ravenblade had been talking to me outside on our porch...as the wagons came into the village. Wagons filled with prisoners wearing blue and silver. At least eight of them had entered near the great fortress. Weird men that were golden bronze, wearing long black coats and riding horses had followed them behind. When the gates were lined up, I had seen men leaving the wagons in a line, but one of them in particular looked my way. He wasn’t wearing blue and silver, but he was wearing rags of yellow. His hair was dark brown, and he looked very strong. His eyes were looking desperately at my Mother, and I was shoved inside._

_“Go inside. You don’t need to see this.” She said, but I could see tears swelling in her eyes. As I was shoved in, My Mother shut the door behind her. “Go to your room. Pack your things. We’re leaving.” I didn’t dare protest. I was nine at the time, and I knew I had to listen to my Mother. As I headed upstairs, I grabbed things from my room. In a potato sack, I had some books, bread and cheese, a small thing of water, and a simple dress. By the time I had slung it over my head, I heard a screeching roar. It was unlike anything I had ever heard. The house shook and smoke filled the air. Soon, fire came through the hay ceiling, and I ran down stairs, only to see the roof cave in. It fell atop my Mother, and fire spread all around the house. Frantic, I rushed to my Mother, trying to pull the wood off of her...but what I saw stopped me instantly. Have of her face was charred with fire, and her eyes were wide opened. I felt like I was going to throw up, but at the same time...I felt like my world was shattered. I wanted to be with her for as long as I could...but the flames and the smoke was too much. I broke the front door open and ran into the fray. Right above me, a great black bird shadowed the sun...but when it left the sun, I knew it wasn’t a bird. It was...a dragon.  I ran with all my might, running past archers sending their arrows in the sky, and spellcasters throwing balls of fire and blue lightning. I felt something like an Earthquake beneath my feet, sending me down on my knees, slightly bouncing off the ground. When I turned around, something had pinned me down. The black Dragon held me down with its great claws, sucking in air...and I screamed. I screamed as loud as I could, orange light filling my vision._

The screaming in my head woke me up, but I couldn’t move. I was paralyzed, and I couldn’t move. Lying on my back, I couldn’t even open my eyes. I couldn’t even breathe. I knew that I had to move, or I was going to suffocate. Desperately, I tried moving my legs and arms, but I could feel myself slipping back to the darkness. _Smaller commands,_ I said to myself. I started wiggling my fingers and toes, trying to wake myself up. It felt like there were three layers of me, and I gave it my all by trying to wake myself up. Finally, I managed to feel my toes wiggle in the bed, and my fingers..and I bolted out of my bed, falling to the floor. My heart pounding in my ears, I could feel my legs were still paralyzed. I screamed...at least I tried to. My throat was so dry, and I felt terrified. I had expected to make at least some sort of sound...but nothing came out. To make things worse, I seen two feet walk right in front of me. Just inches away from my head, the intruder knelt in front of me. I raised my head up a little to get a better look. It was the most terrifying thing I had ever seen. The stranger wore Daedric armor, obsidian black and blue glowing armor...the stranger was a ‘she’. Her face was a glowing blue, and black painted symbols on her glowing face... cat-like blue eyes with black behind them. She had horns curled like a ram, and silver hair. She gazed at me with a blank expression.   _Who is she?_

_**“We meet again, Lillith...for we have met before, whether you know it or not. When you mutter in your sleep, you speak to me. When you waken wet with sweat, you’ve just left my house. I dwell in your dreams. I savor your nightmares. I am Vaermina, Daedric Prince of Dreams and Nightmares. It has been a long time since we have last spoke.”** _

I looked at her with pleading eyes, begging her to release me from this. She regarded me with a blank expression. _I don’t want this. I don’t need this...not now. Please...release me._

_**“I won’t release you until you give me a full hearing. Ravenna Gold...I hold your memories. I have seen your dreams. I orchestrated them myself.”** _

_Why? What sick pleasure do you get out of tormenting me? You want me scared, I’m scared. What more do you want? My life?_

Vaermina merely stared at me. I was able to move my hand just barely. It rested on her foot. I looked at her with pleading eyes.

_Take it. I don’t want it anymore. I can’t live like this...I don’t want to live anymore._

_**“I won’t take your life. You hold greater purpose than any ordinary mortal. The Twilight has told me this. I cannot kill you. You have a destiny, and where you choose to be in life will determine what happens to this world.”** _

_I don’t understand...why are you telling me this? What hope could I possibly be to you? I am nothing. I was born nothing, I’ll be nothing._

**_“Self-pity will get you no where. Accept what you are, not what you were. You are not one of them. Twilight sends a message, ‘The once steel wall between our worlds has become silk. It can easily be torn, and it inevitably will be. You are the only one who can destroy the Silver Knight. He travels across an ocean of stars, and he will enter Nirn. It is up to you to use your true Daedric power and sacrifice yourself to protect everything you hold dear. I will always be watching over you, even when that day comes.’”_ **

**_“She also says she wishes to meet you soon. When you meet her, bring no one. And one more thing…”_ **

Vaermina stands to her feet. **_“This is MY message to you. My realm is Quagmire, a place where all mortals visit when they sleep. I am a keeper of your memories. When you are ready to accept fate, perform the same meditation you did in High Hrothgar and visit me at Midnight. I will reveal all your memories that your subconscious...your familiar had locked away. And remember...without dreams, there is no imagination. And without an imagination, there is nothing.”_**

 ** _  
_** With that, she disappeared. Finally released from my state of paralysis, I gave a blood-curdling scream.


	5. Chapter 5, Meeting the Fool of Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The shortest chapter I have ever made, but it is good nonetheless. This chap is set during the time when Lillith first meets Cicero.

**_Many years ago..._ **

 

It was a very rainy day. I wore nothing but my Dark Brotherhood uniform which was soaked with rain and mud. Even with my mask, the rain still stung my eyes. Drenched in rain and mud, I was just leaving Falkreath and heading into the wilderness, where my home was. Blue mountain flowers and nightshade were coated in frost among the room of the Sanctuary. As I jumped from the alcove of the Sanctuary’s entrance, I noticed a wagon and a brown horse near the pond. _A guest? Here? Not likely._ The Skull door in front of me spoke in a chilling whisper, _“What is the music of life?”_

 

                                                                    “Silence, my brother.”

The door unlocked with a small chink sound. As I stepped through, the door whispered, _“Welcome…home.”_ I walked all the way into the entrance of the main room, pulling my cowl down.

 _“But the Night Mother is Mother to all!”_ yelled a shrill voice. Curious, I walked towards the main room where my brothers and sisters stood circled around a very strange man with a coffin next to him. The stranger wore a jester’s outfit, wine red with black trim and golden marks here and there. Atop his head was a matching jester cap with no bells. His own hair was a deep dark shade of crimson. I hid in the shadows, listening to the rest of the commotion. “It is _her_ voice we follow, _her_ will! Would you dare risk disobedience? And surely…punishment?”

Arnbjorn, the long white-haired Nord and werewolf, snorted in disgust. Cracking his knuckles, he gave the jester a threatening smile. “Keep talking little man, and we’ll see who gets punished.”

“Oh be quiet you great lumbering lab dog!” scolded Festus Krex, the old man in our family. (A spell caster at that.) “Mister Cicero...I for one am glad you and the Night Mother have arrived. Your presence here signals a welcome to tradition.” Festus Krex smiled at Cicero. _Night Mother?_ I stared at the coffin beside Cicero. _Is THAT what’s in there?_

Cicero clapped his hands in glee, dancing a little twirl of his own. “Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!” He squealed in an overly sweet voice. “What a kind and wise wizard you are! Sure to earn our Lady’s favor…”

And then, our leader of the Sanctuary, Astrid, stepped forward. Her long golden hair framed her delicate pale face and brown eyes. She wore an outfit of red and black zig-zag stripes, just like her husband Arnbjorn. Me? I wore what most of us did; a red and black cloak with a hood and a black hand print on the chest.

Astrid cleared her voice, signaling everyone’s attention. “Cicero, you and the Night Mother are of course welcome here. And you will be granted the honor and respect as the position as Keeper. But make no mistake. _I_ am the leader of this Sanctuary. And my word is law. Are we clear on that?” She said, her voice stern and threatening.

 

Cicero didn’t look the least bit perturbed. He smiled like a lunatic, and humbly bowed. “Oh yes, yes, yes, mistress! Perfectly! You’re the boss!”

 

With that said, everyone dispersed to their regular duties. Arnbjorn went back to blacksmithing in his corner, Babette and Nazir went back to the kitchen, and the others left to their duties.  Astrid stood planted where she was, Cicero’s back to her as she glared at the large wooden coffin. I’m horrible at introductions and I rarely talked to anyone. So as I went to report to Astrid about my finished contracts, I pulled my hood up to hide my face from the jester. I nearly succeeded too, but I felt someone grab me by the arm and yank me back, making me yelp. I was met face to chest with the jester’s motley. “Hello, hello, helloooooo!  Who is this little doll?” I felt my hood being yanked back before I could stop it. “ _Oooh_ , a young one! How…interesting!” Cicero knelt to my height as if I were a child and patted my head. I was greeted with brown eyes, a pale face, long red hair, a pointed chin, and a hysterical grin. _Imperial_ , I noted numbly. “How old are you, young one? Twelve? Fourteen?”

“She’s seventeen.” Called Astrid’s voice. I whipped my head in the direction of her voice, noticing she was right beside me. She gazed at Cicero with a look of silent threat. “She’s only been here for a month or so. Not much of a talker, but she’s good with a blade.”

Cicero rose to his full height, holding his chin in his gloved hand and regarding me with deep thought. “Oh yes, Cicero can see the talent…she must have the talent to fool others, much like the un-child, right? Still…I don’t think I’ve seen an initiate younger than twenty. This will be an interesting turn of events. Cicero only hopes for the best!” He smiles, turning to the Night Mother’s coffin.

Astrid pulls me to the steps near the entrance of the sanctuary. “I’m glad that was over. I was done speaking to that muttering fool anyway. Now…onto business. I heard about your current contract with Narfi. You killed a beggar in cold blood…impressive.”

I merely stared at her. Astrid raises a brow, looking slightly annoyed. “Typical. Anyway, I don’t have a job for you yet, so you might as well rest. And dear sister, _please_ clean that filthy uniform. It is unbecoming of you.” She wrinkled her nose disdainfully, walking into her room. 


	6. The Wisdom of Lore

_ 7 Years ago _

 

 

 

“Lillith, why are you doing this?” asked Nazir with worry. Lillith sat beside Nazir, crossing her arms. “Nazir, we don’t have much of a choice. There are not enough of us to follow the tenets the right way. We need to start anew.”

“And how do you think the clown will react to this?”

Lillith gave Nazir a dark glare. “Hold your tongue, Redguard. Cicero may not be sane or to your liking, but he is our brother and you will tolerate his behavior. If it weren’t for him, you and I wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

Nazir gazed at Lillith warily. “My Listener, forgive me for offending you. It was not my intent-”

“I am not the one who is offended...but if the clown catches wind of this, you’ll have to deal with it. Are we clear?”

Nazir gave a curt nod. “Yes, my Listener.” Lillith gave no acknowledgement to his formalities as she drank her spiced wine and read from her book.

Lillith usually isn’t this commanding, but whenever Cicero is brought up she defends him without thought. But she has known Nazir much longer, and the Redguard can’t help but feel offended that the Listener holds more praise and trust in a madman. A great assassin, but a madman nonetheless.

“Nazir.”

Nazir looked up to Lillith, seeing that she was staring at the mug she was whirling the liquid within. Her eyes were sullen like marble glass, her expression reflecting an emptiness within her broken soul.

“We’ve already lost Babette. I can’t afford to lose anyone else. We need to recruit people...I understand you’re hesitant. But we need to put the guild first. Do you understand, Nazir?”

 “Yes, my Listener. I’m sorry if I-”

“Stop apologizing. Please check if there are any contracts coming in. We need to replenish the larder.”

“Actually, my Listener...we have only one contract left. I was hesitant to tell you this, because it is most unusual. The old way we used to live by is diminishing at an alarming rate. Pretty soon, we’ll only be able to rely on the Night Mother. I pray that it will be enough.”

Lillith merely nodded, drinking the rest of her wine in one gulp. Nazir walked downstairs, and Lillith gazed menacingly at the Night Mother’s coffin adjacent to the room beside her. She could see the standing ebony-iron coffin through the bars of the window beside the table, happiness ebbing in her eyes and hatred burning forth like a lustrous gleam.

 ** _I hate you._** Lillith thought inside. She, the only one among her brothers, truly despised the Night Mother more than anything. She hated being the Listener. She hated hearing and feeling a dead woman’s voice in her mind. Every day she questioned her own sanity, knowing that the life she chose was evidence enough to proving reality. If the Night Mother knew of her hatred, she never said anything to point it out. But deep inside, Lillith knew that The Night Mother would punish her for such disobedience. Little did Lillith know, that day would come sooner than she would’ve liked.

Oblivious to that small fact, she chose to approach the Night Mother, waiting to hear the next job she would have to do. What child has prayed to thou Mother? Who must be slain? Lillith kneeled before the Night Mother’s shrine for over ten minutes. This was normal; the Night Mother likes to take her time, debating if the job was not a ploy or a trap.

So while Lillith waited for the Night Mother to speak, she sat before the shrine in a meditative state-which was cut short by Cicero’s arrival. Cicero, riddles, rhyming, jingled bell cap and all.  He had brown eyes that sang with mischief, bright long red hair that ended to the middle of his back, and wearing a red and black jester motley. As he entered the room, Lillith noticed he was carrying a small brown wooden box. He hummed merrily, paying Lillith no attention as he dropped the box on the ground, glass clinking on the inside of the box. Lillith couldn’t help but stare at him. He’s been part of the family for over a year, and just a month ago, the former leader of the old Sanctuary ordered Lillith to kill him. No matter how much power Astrid held as leader, Lillith couldn’t bring herself to do it.

Cicero had been there for her when no one else was. He taught her how to read and write, and more importantly…he gave her a voice. For so long, she didn’t speak. She preferred loneliness and solitude, whereas Cicero feared that. In spite of their friendship and what Cicero had done for her, no one knew that Lillith held emotions and thoughts that betrayed their way of life. Lillith never wanted to be an assassin.

When she killed the owner of the orphanage that abused the children, she had no idea of what she got herself into.

Cicero pulled the candles out of the box one by one and gave Lillith a small smile with narrowed eyes. “I appreciate the compliment, my Listener.” Cicero gave a sly grin, narrowing his eyes with a smirk. Lillith blinked in confusion, finally leaving her daydream.  “What do you…?” And then it hit her. Blushing a small shade of pink, she whipped her head towards the Night Mother, feeling completely flustered. She tried to concentrate on listening for the Night Mother’s voice, desperate to rid herself from the embarrassment a few seconds ago.

Her concentration was cut short when Cicero walked around her, putting the candles in place beside the coffin. She glared at Cicero’s back, annoyed. Before she could complain, he opened the coffin doors, making Lillith’s mouth agape in horror. There the Night Mother’s corpse stood, her arms crossed like a draugr mummy, a dirt gray ragged dress covering from the neck to her feet, and her face… it made Lillith’s stomach churn.

The Night Mother’s skull had an open mouth, bones visible in most places, in others replaced by shriveled skin. It took all her strength just not to gag.

Cicero, oblivious to Lillith’s disgust, hummed merrily to himself as he lit the candles one by one. “How is our Listener?” he asked, paying no attention to Lillith as he pulled incense out of a nearby vase. Lillith couldn’t take her eyes off of the Night Mother’s corpse. “Um...tired.”

 Cicero stepped before Lillith, shooing her away so he could sweep the floor. She settled on the single pew behind her. “I hear nightshade is an excellent remedy for sleep…”

Lillith’s eyes doubled in size. Cicero gave a shrill laugh, wiping an imaginary tear. “I jest, I jest...oh my, you should see the look on your face...priceless!”

Lillith glared at Cicero, trying her best not to give into breaking a smile at the edge of her lips. “That’s not even funny Cicero.”

“Of course it is! What you lack is a sense of humor. Cicero will teach you…”

Before she could reply, he knelt in front of Lillith, taking her long black braid and rested it on his top lip. Lillith didn’t laugh, but she did smile. “Well, it’s a start.” Cicero sat up, moving towards the Night Mother. As he lit the incense, Lillith expected the Night Mother to speak. Nothing but the silence mixed with the whistling wind from outside was heard.

As soon as all the incense were lit, Lillith could smell the overpowering scents of lavender, cinnamon, and peach. The smoke danced in the lighted room, making her eyes water.

Without thinking, she sat up, wiping the watery tears from her stinging eyes. “Cicero, is that _really_ necessary? I can barely keep my eyes open.”

“Oh yes! Everything must be prim, prime, proper, and perfect! Mother deserves only the best! Now please...let me do what I do best...let me _keep_ our matron properly. ...Hehe, see what I said there? ' _Keep' ?_ ” Foolish Cicero..." He clicked his tongue to himself.

Lillith couldn’t even open her eyes long enough to see in front of her. Her eyes grew puffy, feeling swollen and watery. She inhaled, only to taste the bitterness of the incense and coughed. She stumbled against the arch of the room, trying her best to maneuver without her eyes. Falling forward, she gave up, calling for Cicero in spite of her burning lungs.

 She thought he didn’t hear her until she felt his arms lifting her from the ground and opening the door to the outside. She was met with the whirling winter wind that was free of blistering snow and ice, feeling relieved to rid the burning from her lungs.

 Before Cicero could leave her, she snatched him by the arm, pulling him down to her level. She coughed trying to clear her throat properly. Despite being able to breathe a little better, her lungs burned faintly, and she couldn’t get the bitter taste out of her mouth.

 _“What...the hell...were you thinking?!”_ She coughed, her voice sore as if she hadn’t spoke in years.

Finally realizing what he had put Lillith through, he held her face in his hands and stroked his thumb against her cheek, giving her a sympathetic smile. “Oh, Cicero is so sorry. He didn’t mean to put Lillith through that. He...he didn’t think. He’s been doing this for over a decade, alone. He didn’t know how harmful it was.”

 Lillith only responded with more coughing, giving him a glare.

 

***

** Present Time   **

 

“Here,” Vicente handed me a mug of something hot, and I curled my trembling fingers around it, not even taking a sip. Dawn was almost at its peak, but Vicente’s red orbs illuminated in the darkness. I chilled at the thought of it, feeling the warmth of the mug in my cold hands. Vicente stood beside the couch and Cicero sat beside me. “What exactly happened? Did you have a nightmare?” Vicente asked, tying his hair up. I gazed at him, noticing he was wearing his brown night shirt and brown pants. A lump caught in my throat as images flashed in my mind of that Daedric entity…the fear…the paralysis. I shivered at the thought, and felt Cicero clutch my hand, giving me a look of reassurance. I let out a shaky breath, setting the mug down on the coffee table. “It all happened so fast…it…it was a nightmare…I think…? Wait-no…it…it wasn’t. I…was visited. By a Daedra…a Daedric Prince.  Vaermina was her name.”

I stared at the floor, twiddling my thumbs nervously. I anxiously rocked back and forth, feeling the chills run up and down my spine. “She…she paralyzed me. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t speak…and I was awake during it all. It was the most terrifying thing I’ve ever been through.” I squinted my eyes shut, trying vainly to will the memory away. “What exactly did she want?” asked Vicente. I then felt a cold hand over my own, and I snapped my eyes open to see Vicente kneeling in front of me.

I stared at him with wide eyes, feeling an odd comfort through his touch. “I...she said…”

I heard the doors of the window open and saw Lore’s heart-shaped face peering in. Vicente stepped backward upon seeing Lore, and Cicero shifted uneasily, paying no attention to the owl whilst giving Vicente a small glare. Lore swooped in without a word, landing on the cherry wood perch I made for him.

He groomed his wings gingerly, and the sun rose behind him, making him look like a majestic bird. _“I heard your distress miles away. Tell me what The Prince of Nightmares wanted of you.”_

“...she wanted me to see Twilight. But I have no idea who that is.”

“Azura...the goddess of twilight.”

 All eyes turned towards Vicente. He looked to me, giving me a small smile. “She is a Daedric Prince. And most of all, she is said to be the only one who isn’t inherently evil.”

_“She has the ability to see the future and to pass that gift to her mortal followers. She is said to be the only Daedra who hasn’t turned against mortals for the worst, like Mehrunes Dagon. Was there anything else Vaermina told you?”_

“She said that Twilight told me that...the shield that keeps our the Daedra out of our world is breaking...and that Jyggalag is coming soon. She wants to speak to me soon.”

_“Then we must go to her.”_

“That isn’t what she wanted. She said she wants me to go alone. Lore, what if this is a trap? What if this is nothing more than a ploy?”

_“If Vaermina or Azura wanted you dead, they would’ve done it long before you met Boethiah. If Azura wishes to speak to you, then you must answer her call. It is unwise and utmost disrespectful to neglect a calling from a Daedric Lord. If Azura wants to speak to you, then her information will prove quite invaluable. The Daedra already know of your existence. It won’t be long before they start pestering and hindering you. There are far worse Daedra ready to meet you soon, and I alone cannot protect you from them all. You’ve already seen the wrath of Boethiah. Would you like to see the wrath of Molag Bal or that of Mehrunes Dagon?”_

I shivered at the thought. I then visualized my arms and legs being clutched by many hands, trying to pull me apart.

_“And another thing… you remember Vasha, don’t you? Well guess what...he may be dead, but his guild Red Shadow is not. I’ve found out through my travels that an Altmer leads them.”_

“What is Red Shadow?” asked Vicente.

  _“Red Shadow is a guild that has lasted barely a decade. It’s not as famous as the Dark Brotherhood, but it’s trying to get there. It’s an argonian guild that was founded in Blackmarsh, led by the forgotten league of Shadowscales. The Shadowscales, being the hatchlings born into the Dark Brotherhood under the star sign of the Shadow. Red Shadow is nothing more than a guild of thieves, skooma drug dealers, rapists, and murderers.”_

_***_

**_He handed me a cloth with a black rose within. I took it gingerly, and gazed at the Khajiit. “I lead Red Shadow. I believe that you and I could join forces, given your Guild’s state of affairs. I have more men than you can count, and I believe most of them are Shadowscales. They are quite eager to join your infamous group known to have killed the Emperor in history. Not once, but twice.”_**

**_“What makes you think I’m that desperate, Vasha?”_**

**_His feline lips curled into a smile. “Believe me, I know.”_**

**_He scooted out of his chair and approached the door. As he held the knob with his furry gray paw, he looked at me with narrowed eyes. “Should you ever wish to get this arrangement started, head to the Bee and Barb in Riften. Hand the cloth to Talen-jei and give the pass phrase ‘New Moon’. I will meet you there as soon as I can.”_**

****

_***_

_“That’s not the last of the news. Your Father, Jono Stormcrow has done the unthinkable. When you were gone in High Hrothgar, he sent all wizards across the world back to the College of Winterhold. He even brought the forbidden magic Necromancy within the College. All of this was caused by a fact that Ulfric refused Jhono’s request to give the Forsworn the Reach back to them.”_

 “Why would my Father care about the Native Nords? He’s a true Stormcloak. It doesn’t add up.”

_“Apparently, he visited Azura himself and saw the true nature of Ulfric Stormcloak. Ulfric had killed the Forsworn to gain Markarth for himself. And now, everything Jhono has said is coming true; those who are not Nords that are living in Skyrim have been severely discriminated and even put to death. There is chaos all around us, and the native Nords are either oblivious or they refuse to believe what is happening before their eyes. If we wish to be prepared to prepare these people for what’s coming, you must end the chaos.”_

“And how do you expect me to do that? Jhono left Solitude and me behind when Cicero came back. He knows that Lillith is long gone...”

_“Join your Father. Convince him. If he truly cares what happens to this world, he will join you...but only if you aid him with the Forsworn. To do that, you must have an army of soldiers of your own.”_

“That’s easier said than done.”

_“There is a way. Lillith Ravenblade is thane of Riften and Windhelm as well as Solitude. If you can prove to Ulfric that Lillith Ravenblade lives, then he might help you. You can… ‘convince’ him that you will end what Jhono has started. Given how much you’ve aided him in the war and your titles, AND that you are the daughter of the Dragonborn, your name carries enough weight to request an award. Ask for Winterhold.”_

“This will take a long time to accomplish. He’s not just going to give me this city.”

_“Then you must be prepared. But before we even think about doing that, we need to eliminate Red Shadow at all costs. If not, then they will be in our way. I’ve already heard that there are some in Solitude. Fortunately for you, there is someone who will help us. Given the riches your Father has left you, I’ve no doubt that she’ll agree.”_

“Who are you talking about?”

  _“Oh, I think you know.”_

“...Fiery Woman…” Cicero giggled to himself.


	7. Howling

**Notes: PoisenedAppleOfMyYEye (From Fanfiction) wrote and created Celine! I don’t think I could’ve written this second book of the series without her help!**

**She has been tutoring me on writing, and I’m far better than I was a few months ago!**

**I’m sure you’ll know who wrote what! :P**

**Also, the song for this chapter is Howling by Within Temptation!**

**Enjoy**

**Thank you once again, PoisenedAppleOfMyEye!**

**  
  
  
  
  
**

Celine slipped through the doors of the tavern, the familiar scents hitting her at full force – the booze, sweat, leather, smoke and beef stew with lentils. These things were all familiar to her, however, with her heightened senses , they were absolutely suffocating. She nearly gagged, but shook her head, trying to focus. _Bar._ She needed to get to the bar, get her mead, and get out before this stench made her sick.

Hunching her shoulders, she briskly tromped her way to the counter that Corpulus Vinius was tending. She ignored the stools, placing her forearm arm on the polished wooden surface and leaning in.

"Back in town Celine? Would you like your usual?" The imperial said in a way of greeting, vigorously polishing the last stains off a mug.

"No." She rasped, her voice rough from disuse, "I need two bottles of Blackbriar mead to go."

He raised his eyebrows in surprise, but didn't ask about her sudden change in routine. He knew how she hated prying questions. "Yes ma'am. Give a moment to go into my stores." He set the mug down, wiping his brow before disappearing into the back.

Celine covered her nose with her hand, trying to block the putrid smell of a building that held too many people for her liking. Usually, one would grow accustomed to a certain smell over time, tuning it out entirely. But Celine was quickly learning that this was not the case anymore with her werewolf sharp senses. The longer she lingered, the more things she noticed. There was mold clinging to the ceiling; the Argonian in the corner emitted that reptilian smell all Argonians seemed to have, which mixed rather unpleasantly with his unwashed clothes. A passing Nord noble woman reeked of perfume derived from mountain flower and lavender. And then there were the sounds. The clink of cups hitting table tops, the snippets of conversation that barraged her sensitive ears with bits of knowledge; the creak of doors , the couple moaning and groaning on the second floor, iron spoons scraping against pewter bowls, the footsteps...the footsteps that were coming from behind her...

A cloaked figure took the stool beside her. The bounty hunter stiffened, hoping the stranger would take the hint and not start conversation, even though their proximity was a bald faced sign that they wanted to talk. Of all the familiar scents in this tavern, the one this human emitted was...off. Beneath the smell of soap used to wash clothes and the other used to wash skin, there was something utterly foreign, like Nightshade mixed with something else. It put the bounty hunter even more on edge.

"Are you Celine?"

The hunter stills, fingers curling around the hidden dagger in her bracers as she slowly turns towards the unwanted visitor perched on the stool. Glimmering green eyes met calm gray ones. If the black haired human was nervous about the obviously hostile Nord, she didn't show it.

"I heard you were a bounty hunter. I have a job. It's dangerous, the payout is good, and you would get to hunt down and kill murderers and rapists. Are you interested?"

Celine's fingers uncurled from the hilt of her dagger, hostility replaced by curiosity. _A job?_

That was unexpected. The woman's directness was also refreshing - it served to placate the new werewolf into using words rather than glares as a form of communication.

"We should discuss this in a more private area." The woman offered.

"I agree."

"We can speak in the basement, if you would like."

Celine shook her head. Even though she sensed no ill intent from the woman, Celine had learned the hard way about meeting people on their own terms. "I'll rent a room, and we can speak there."

Corpulus had returned, setting two bottles of mead in front of Celine. "That's going to be 50 Septims."

Celine took out her pouch, pouring 60 septims on the counter. She wrinkled her nose – she could still smell the stench of the bandit she took the coins from. Even though she rinsed the septims in the river, the scent of old blood was rather stubborn. "I want a room."

"Of course." The bartender turned around, plucking a key from one of the many hooks behind him. "Last one on the right."

The bounty hunter nodded, taking the key and mead. She jerked her head at the client. "After you."

Celine found it rather interesting how the stranger didn't hesitate to lead the way, obviously having no qualms about revealing her backside to a notorious hunter. Three conclusions could be drawn from this: this client was either too oblivious to what showing one's back meant, or was utterly confident in her abilities defend herself, or had some semblance of trust in Celine. It would be ridiculous for a bounty hunter to harm or kill potential clients – bad for business and what not – but Celine was rather used to people being paranoid and jumpy around her. A normal person would be casting furtive glances behind them as they made their way upstairs, but this client didn't.

They stopped before the last door on the right, and Celine jammed the iron key into the lock before stalking into the room. The bounty hunter slid her traveling pack from her shoulders, stretching her arms in an attempt to relieve some of the stiffness. Ugh Celine thought, wrinkling her nose. The light perfume of the bed sheets couldn't hide the scent of stale sweat or the fact that the bed was due for a deep cleaning. The moaning from the love making couple had quieted, thankfully. Celine was doubtful her concentration could hold over those gross, obscene sounds.

The client closed the door quietly, peeling back her violet cowl. "My name is Lillith, by the way."

The bounty hunter gave a slow blink. "You were in this bar before. Talking to a vampire before throwing a tantrum."

"Yes." Lillith admitted, fiddling with her long braid. Her cheeks reddened from that rather public outburst. It couldn't have been helped though. The vampire's sudden appearance along with his speech about the dark brotherhood and her great grandmother had thrown Lillith completely off balance. It was the last thing the ex-assassin had expected that day - a vampire throwing her past in her face in such a public area. "That was Vicente. You may want to take a seat, there's quite a lot that I need to tell you."

Crossing her arms, Celine leans against the oak wall. "Tell me what the job is. If I take it, tell me the story."

"Fair enough." Lillith crosses her arms. "I want your help to take out the guild Red Shadow. Have you heard of them?"

"A little." Celine shrugged a lean shoulder. "Dark Brotherhood wannabes. How much?"

"Twenty thousand septims."

Celine snorted, "Really, how much?"

Lillith sighed. "My father is rich and left me house full of valuables here in Solitude. I can pay that and more." Still incredulous, Celine scanned her outfit, noting the high quality weave of her violet cloak and finely crafted ebony armor. It had the slight shimmer of multiple enchantments – spells only a master enchanter could cast. The suit itself was worth a small fortune. Celine was still doubtful about the generous payout, but if Lillith tried to scam her, she would find a way to strip the minx of that pretty armor as recompense. It wouldn't be the first time Celine had to find creative, alternative ways to extract payment, nor would it be the last.

"Deal." Celine slowly blinks once more, "Story time." The bounty hunter never really concerned herself about the finer details of her contracts, caring only for the bare basics. But this was a one of a kind job – Celine had never received such huge request. She had taken on her fair share of bandit groups and Forsworn clans, but guilds were richer and much more organized, especially ones involved in illegal affairs. If she was to do this, she would need all the information she could get her hands on. The challenge ahead already had her heart racing in excitement. This already promised to be the hunt of a life time.

"Let me start from the beginning." Lillith fidgeted, gripping her left bracer tightly. Celine's stoic expression softened just a fraction – Aiden, her little brother, had the same nervous habit. "I was once a member of the Dark Brotherhood, and quickly climbed its ranks." Lillith began. She spun her tale, describing her harrowing time with the group of assassins and being selected as the Listener. Celine remained silent the whole time, but the hunter couldn’t help but cringe at the mention of the Night Mother. This was the stuff of legend, and this tiny woman is blowing life into a dusty myth, making it a part of reality. This would usually make Celine question the sanity of her client – hearing a scratchy, demonic voice in one's head could only mean insanity - but she could detect no lie or madness in those overcast eyes. This woman was telling the truth, no matter how crazy it sounded.

Lillith gripped her ebony bracer even tighter, her knuckles turning white, "Then I made the mistake of trusting Vasha. Vasha was a Khajiit and a prominent member of Red Shadow. He was ultimately responsible for the demise of the Brotherhood and... he betrayed me to my enemies. He handed me over on a silver platter, and they imprisoned me for sometime. But I eventually escaped, thanks to Cicero." Lillith looks away, staring at the corner of the room as though expecting this Vasha to emerge from the woodwork. "I went into hiding and tried to move on, and was successful for a few years. But Vasha wouldn't let me go, and so he found me again. I...had to...I killed him."

Celine wanted to roll her eyes, but suppressed it. This Vasha was a slimy traitor, there was no reason to stutter and fret over such a justified killing. At least in Celine's book. But the hunter learned long ago that most people weren't imbued with her sense of logic; and if she were reading the signs right, there was much more to this story.

"What did Vasha do other than screw you over?" The hunter prodded, examining her client with cunning eyes.

Lillith fidgeted nervously, her face growing pale by the second. She looks at Celine with a numb expression. "Tell me...what is only thing a man can do...that can break a woman?"

Celine's eyes narrowed, glancing to the bed and back. "He...?"

"Repeatedly. And I never forgot it...I still have the nightmares. Because of what he did to me, I can never love again. I can't trust any man or even...He took everything from me. Although life in the Dark Brotherhood was dreadful, I still had a family. In the end, it was all I ever wanted. And he killed them. Cicero is all I have left."

Lillith gazed at Celine pleadingly. "I can’t live with this anymore. This...cat still haunts my dreams. Not a day goes by when I don’t question my own sanity. And now that...he...they..."

"And now Red Shadow is after you." Celine stated matter of factly.

The client nodded, brought back to the more immediate problem. "They won't rest until Vasha is avenged and I'm dead." Lillith's eyes were wide, staring past Celine as though seeing into Oblivion itself. "They'll torture me. They'll do what Vasha did and worse... I can't go through that again."

"Nor will you." Celine stated. "Keep me around, pay me what you promised, and I'll make sure Red Shadow remains a distant nightmare."

The client offered a tentative smile, "You'll take the job then? Even after hearing all the crazy stuff?" Lillith felt a weight lift off her shoulders at the bounty hunters confidence. Lillith knew that Celine wasn't the type to offer comfort, but her words provided exactly that.

"Yes." Celine's scarred mouth twisted into a wolfish smile. "I always enjoy a good hunt."

***

Lillith's P.O.V.

A strong sense of relief fills me. This is the best news I've ever gotten. The reality of the situation seems more like a dream. With Celine by my side, I will finally have the vengeance I sought for a long time. I can understand why she is suspicious of me, but I have told her no lies. If she asks further, I will reveal that I've nothing to hide…except the ancient soul within me. If she ever finds out that I'm an abomination, this could turn for the worst. It's hard enough to hide who I am around other people, but if this gets out…she might back out on the deal. I don't know how long it will take to eliminate Red Shadow, which means Celine could be with us for a little while…and it could be much harder to keep the secrets hidden. Celine looked at me with the faintest smile and a hunger in her eyes I knew all too well. She was going to enjoy this fight against Red Shadow. And so was I.

I let out a shaky breath and felt the sweat on my skin chilled. This was it. It was really going to happen. This will be the beginning of the end. I slowly stood on my feet, my legs visibly shaking from the nervousness I've held inside for so long. Although I didn't look at Celine, I could feel her emerald eyes burning through me with cunning calculation. Very observant she is. That makes her a fast learner. Obviously, she thinks that this could be nothing more than a trap, and I couldn't blame her. I'm sure she'll try to find out more about me, but I won't let her know more than is needed. If she asks me to tell her all the tortious techniques I had suffered though in my capture, I will tell her in spite of the discomfort- anything to keep the truth from her.

I looked to Celine, a small smile on my lips. "I can't thank you enough. All that I ask is that I join you in their demise. And that the death of their leader is left to me."

Celine pondered for a mere moment and nodded. "Deal."

As we approached the doors, I noticed that the bar was half as crowded. Shrugging it off, I left the tavern. Sunlight flashed in my eyes and blinded me momentarily. The chilled sweat on my skin melted off, and I could feel my hair being heated by the sun. When I opened my eyes, I had seen a small crowd of people in front of the tavern, speaking in haste and hushed whispers, their attention to the roof. Celine had unsheathed her axe instantly whilst pushing me back with her arm. "What is it?" I asked her. She didn't answer me right away. When she opened her mouth, the crowd of people grew larger by the second. Ignoring Celine, I began stepping towards the crowd. Some of them shrieked, pointing at the roof.

I cautiously stepped a few more steps, feeling the hairs on my neck rise. As I stood where they were, I seen it. I saw a girl.

She looked about fifth teen, but the way she was dressed…

She wore a brown ragged dress and had knotted brown hair. She gazed at the people below her with a sinister smile. When her gaze reached mine, she pointed right at me,"YOU! YES, YOU! I BRING A MESSAGE!"

Se hopped to the upper roof with hardly the effort. When she reached the top, she raised her fist in the air with a look of triumph.

 _"Long live Hircine!"_ She screamed.

A thousand things happened in a manner of seconds. The little girl...she grew brown fur all over her body and she got bigger and bigger...

Everyone was screaming, running...I felt someone yank me from behind, coming face-to-face with Celine. "We don't have time to dawdle!" She yelled, pushing me backward. I stumbled on my own feet, unsheathing my ebony swords. Howls rang out in the distance. It finally registered; werewolf.

Four overly large blotts of black made their way towards me from under the Solitude arch. Celine raised both axes. I gripped her shoulder. "There's too many of them! We have to run for it!"

"No! Just go!"

"Are you fucking crazy?! I'm not leaving-"

" _GO!_ "

The blotts of black became werewolves charging their hind legs at an alarming speed. I didn't hesitate to run to the gates. A high elven maid in a red dress screams in terror, a dozen guards scrambling around, shop owners locking up and hiding behind their doors, a bald beggar with a blind eye bleeding out from his stomach...

Chaos all around me, and I still kept running. I could hear growls and howls increasing, which meant the werewolves have greater numbers. I didn't dare stop running. When I shot past the closing gate doors, I knew that half of the battle was over. I had to leave Solitude. With or without my friends. As I ran downhill the pathway, I noticed a garrison of guards heading my way, armed with archers and a few yellow-robed women in front. Spell casters no doubt. I rushed past them without thought, and hid to the sides of the gate. There has to be some way out of here. A stray yellow horse whinnied towards me, and I cautiously approached it. The horse backed away a little bit, before I caught it by its reins. I was able to mount the horse easily once I gained its trust. Giving its white mane an affectionate scratch, the horse trotted off without complaint.

To Dragon’s Bridge.

_***_

Daylight is gone. That doesn’t help me feel better at all. I still can’t believe what happened. Werewolves? Of all places…

I had never seen a werewolf before now, and that just makes my skin crawl even  more. I can’t run from this. I can’t hide from the Daedra anymore. This is only going to get worse. We have to go to Windhelm...soon. Forget Red Shadow. We can deal with them later. If...if Celine is still alive. And Cicero…

Oh no...Cicero. Please...please be alive.

I can feel my eyelids getting heavier by the second. If only I had the strength to keep them open.

The horse trotted gently on the stone road, and torchbugs glowed above us in a greenish blue. Both moons were full tonight. Giving a small yawn, I finally surrendered to the darkness.

***

_The wind was hitting the chimes like a musician hitting the piano keys. The musical chime although clattered sounded as one of a kind. Kynareth is singing to me. The sky is blue, not a cloud in sight. Dawn is rising and I can smell the honey in the wind. Oh, how I loved it when Pa and I picked the berries and made tarts out of them drizzled in honey. I love the huckleberries. Not many people like them because of the tartness, but I have a greater tolerance for them. Speaking of which, we should be picking them sometime today. As I entered the cottage, a delicate scent met my nose, and I knew he was up. I heard a loud screech, seeing our wild barn owl in the windowsill. His wings were expanded revealing a star-like pattern and his eyes were pools of beautiful silver. As I approached him, he cooed softly, recognizing me. I petted his soft delicate wings, admiring the beauty of them. "Gold." I turned my head to Pa's voice, but not seeing him. "Gold."_

***

The horse whinnied in loudly, waking me up. Just as I was about to collect my senses, something huge knocked me off of the horse. When I opened my eyes, large hands were against my throat in an iron grip. A curtain of white hair in my face and a wiry beard. Silver eyes filled with a hatred that would make even the bravest man cower. Eyes that held pain and misery enduring and a vengeance long deserving.

Rage and misery in its greatest form.

“I finally found you, bitch.” Arnbjorn gave a sadistic smile, my eyes edging with black specks. “Did you think I would let you live with what you’ve done? Do you think I would just let it go? Do you remember me? Do you remember the shit you’ve put me through for 5 years?”

I flailed weakly, reaching around for something...anything.

“When I’m done with you, there won’t be anything left. I am going to pick you apart piece by piece…”

I heard huge thumps on the ground nearby. Arnbjorn suddenly jerked his body to the side, only for a massive beast to pierce his shoulder with its teeth. Arnbjorn immediately changed before my eyes, striking the red werewolf with his massive claws. The red wolf slashed at him with a frenzy of claws, and Arnbjorn snapped his teeth in the red wolf’s arm, making it yelp. Both wolves snarled at each other, their bared fangs and barking never ceasing. They grabbed for each other, fangs and claws sharp like daggers, striking each others skin.

This was more than a fight. This was a battle of dominance, of prowess, of control. A large yelp mixed with a growl made the scene before me pause. Arnbjorn...the black wolf...he staggered back, revealing a large gash across his stomach. The red wolf clutched its wounded arm, limping backward. Both of them panted loudly, obviously tired out. I stepped protectively in front of Arnbjorn, facing the red werewolf. I was able to see the wolf a lot better now that its movements halted. This one seemed more lithe in form, shorter too. Crimson red fur, shaggy and long. It looked at me menacingly. "Enough." I said to it. I got a closer look at the wolf's eyes, and a lump caught in my throat. Green eyes...like a brilliant emerald. And the red fur...it was a dead give away. She...she was the wolf.

A took one step towards her, and I couldn't believe my eyes. "Celine?"

The wolf’s eyes rolled back and she fell over, her body shedding the fur and shrinking the form at an alarming rate. She was passed out on the ground, her long red hair gnarled and askew, blood seeping from her naked skin. Arnbjorn, a few feet from her in the same state.


End file.
